


The Back Alley Gathering

by loquaciouslass



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Gen, Mild Gore, Rats, Spoilers, brief appearance by Michael Afton, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 19:37:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13037979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loquaciouslass/pseuds/loquaciouslass
Summary: A Bunny, a bear and a baby walk into a bar. The bar, attached to a physical manifestation of a very dead and angry child, walks back.





	The Back Alley Gathering

They alley was deserted as ever, but for the rats that scattered like leaves in a strong autumn wind. Always the same ones, curiously enough- the one with the half-gone tail liked to nestle in Springtrap’s chest cavity, probably because there was still a little stuffing to keep it warm. The biggest rat, fat and black, would often meet his eyes. Not that William could blame it for being suspicious- giant metal objects, especially twitching ones, probably weren’t part of the usual rat landscape. Still, they were a sweet little distraction as he waited for the inevitable creak of the door and greasy, underpaid cleaner that would heave him to his heaven. 

Well, for five minutes, anyway. The current manager’s face would twitch like the rats outside, nose curling up in disgust and never looking away before throwing Springtrap back out. Clever, or perhaps cautious, though why he was never thrown into a more permanent prison than half-eaten pizza and his new rat friends was beyond him. Terrible at getting rid of evidence, these people. No wonder Fazbear’s shut down. 

Springtrap jerked and the rats ran. There was a cold fry in his chest cavity. 

He twitched again, thinking of the cleaners having to reach inside and pull it out. One could hardly send their manager salvage when it was too slippery to keep still. Nice to see the quality of food hadn’t changed. 

Springtrap waited, and William watched. The door would open, soon enough. 

 

Red-blue-red-blue brought him back to reality with a sharp snap- a processor coming back to life as it desperately worked to reset out-of-date and glitched protocols. Sirens howled- they were the only light around, barring the single street-lamp just outside the alley. Springtrap hummed, voice crackled and quiet. 

“It seems no one’s come to visit us, old friend.” 

Freddy’s being what it was, the sirens probably had something to do with the restaurant. Maybe a copycat murderer; that would be flattering. Pointless, but flattering. More likely, some poor patron came down with food poisoning- or death. Accidental death hung around the Fazbear brand like flies around crap. Even before he’d gotten into the swing of things.

William didn’t have nerves any longer, but his neck cracked and shrieked at the memories. Those scars had played up for years- the first big accident with the springlock suits, the one that had put him in hospital for a month and physiotherapy for six. 

Still, they’d caused a delay- one more day before he could get inside. No great loss, but somewhat irritating. He huffed, and let the procedures do as they would. It was a wonder they worked at all. So outdated that he could hear them whirring and crunching in his skull, like the final, desperate grasps of fingers, gripping at his legs or their own throats. The heavy metal tap-tap-tap where parts ground together, metal on stone. 

He came back to reality, eyes lit up, routines interrupted. No metal on stone unless the door had opened, and there was no tell-tale light. 

Something else was in the alley. 

Something chattering to itself.

Springtrap flicked his eyes to the side, watching the shape carve itself from nightlights. Metal, ever shifting. Eyes, arms, cords, dragged on the ground like so much scrap. Plastic face, etched into a permanent half-moon smile. 

Oh, and his hat, of course. What’s Freddy without his hat? 

 

Funtime Freddy spent a lot of time talking, babbling on about whatever topic came to mind with childish enthusiasm; the rats and ants and odd worker that slipped past all received names and incoherent backstories. Of course, it wasn’t Freddy’s fault he couldn’t string together a story- there had been a bug long ago, when William had been writing code, and Elizabeth had liked the big silly bear, and said that he reminded her of a school friend. Freddy kept his glitch, and Funtime Bonnie became a puppet pal to keep him on track. Springtrap let him, maybe with a quiet hum or soft snort when the bear said something particularly amusing. 

Quite pleasant company, for a back-alley.

 

“Oh- for fuck’s sake, two of you?” The cleaner clicked her tongue and sighed, flicking her mop to and fro. “I don’t care how strong whatshisface thinks I am, I can’t flex away tetanus!” 

Springtrap squinted as best he could at the door. No one had come out for a couple of days- and the loud cleaner, well, that must’ve meant it was Monday. What a fine thing to find at the end of the day. 

The cleaner was shouting for someone to come, and her voice rattled around in Springtrap’s head. Surely there was some other sprog nearby. It was like she was trying to be heard over scraping metal on the ground, or particularly enthusiastic drumming. 

Springtrap hissed. All of Freddy’s ears perked up and his many eyes wandered the alley. 

“Gosh, Bonnie-Bun, did you hear that?”

“...Bonnie-Bun?”

Funtime Freddy waved a spare wire at him, and Springtrap’s own ears twitched. Nothing important. Rats, maybe, scraping the dumpsters or walls. Old pipes. No, it was much to rhythmic for that- Like steps, and something heavy, dragging along.

Freddy must’ve seen it first though, because his eyes all retreated back and started flashing. A warning system for staff, when the bots recognised criminals. That had been a stroke of genius. 

Springtrap turned his head. It felt like hundreds of fat rats were tearing apart his guts and he choked at what he saw. 

And then a tonne of metal and bear crashed into him, screaming, in an attempt to get at Circus Baby. His head clanged against the floor. 

“You! You! You’re b-b-back!” 

“Freddy? I thought you’d have collapsed in a sewer by now…I don’t think any of you would be able to put yourself back together…”

“As if you did a good job! You know what you did to us!”

“We were desperate…”

Springtrap shook his head, pushing himself off the ground. God, Freddy hit hard even when he was just made of metal guts. Circus Baby was holding the mass of wires at child-grabby claw length, and Funtime Freddy had at least three claws dug into various parts of her already broken body. 

He rose up to full height, creaking. He wondered if the rats were cowering.

“Children.” 

Baby’s jaw dropped as best it could. Freddy swung around. 

William Afton’s voice had changed, over time. It was raspier, now, forced out through some sort of horrible necromantic powers and aging technology. But, of course, some things didn’t change- a clean British accent in the back of an American alleyway did not go unnoticed, by either of his creations. 

“Daddy?”

Freddy’s gaze flicked between the two of them. He ended up cross-eyed. One of the issues of so many, William supposed. 

Something warm rose in his chest. It was either love, or that particularly fat rat coming to reclaim its mouldy fry. 

He tried to smile at them.  

“My beloved children. I’m so pleased you’re here.” 

Freddy’s eyes were flashing now, high alert, and there was some faint whirring bouncing off the walls. His processors, enraged and confused, trying to decide a target. The whirring was overwhelming, drowning out the creaking door and squeaking rats, and Circus Baby’s shriek. 

The black bear, half-falling apart and blind, crashed into William Afton like a brick sailing through the air on a wind made of  _ pure rage _ . It was hissing and shrieking and attempting to plunge its fingers, long and stripey, into his eye-sockets.

_ “Jessica, I told you, I have a condition- I can’t lift-” _

_ “Yeah, yeah, whatever boss man. There’s two of the- _ alright, what the shit.” 

Two of the animatronics looked up. The other one was too busy having his eyes torn out. The Marionette had discarded its costume, probably through cracking it as it plowed into Springtrap. It was a toddler and he was a particularly unfortunate barbie doll. Just, a lot smellier. 

“D-dad?!” 

Any answer was drowned out by the Marionette. Michael Afton slid his gaze to the other bots. 

“...E...lizabeth?” 

The cleaner flicked her eyes between the carnage. Then, she gently laid a hand on her boss’ shoulder. 

“Mr Afton? With all due respect,  _ what the fuck is happening. _ ” 

**Author's Note:**

> Bill Afton is a shit but he's fun to write


End file.
